


lights and thunder

by abovetheruins



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Dorks in Love, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Teasing, bottom shane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:03:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: Shane has created a monster.He watches the club lights play over Ryan’s skin, strands of blue and purple and green shifting in time with the beat of the music. The gleam of Ryan's smile cuts through it all, wide and wild and brilliant, his boisterous laugh rising high above the din of techno synth pop and the muted roar of the crowd.Shane’s heart doesn’t flutter at the sight of that familiar grin.(Shane is a goddamn liar.)-Sequel tothe calm before crescendo





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the calm before crescendo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14696724) by [abovetheruins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins). 



> You guys said you wanted a smutty sequel, so uhhhhhh here ya go
> 
> Be sure to read [the calm before crescendo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14696724) beforehand, as it's referenced quite a bit in this
> 
> A big thanks to my newly BFU-obsessed friend, who was lamenting the lack of bottom Shane fics and inspired me to include him here. Hope you enjoy! ;) 
> 
> Also, some, ah, visual aids can be found [here](https://theawfuledges.tumblr.com/post/174140198819/waverlyhills-what-the-fuck), [here](https://theawfuledges.tumblr.com/post/174634222564/mayanangel-we-love-ourselves-a-grown-and), and [here](https://theawfuledges.tumblr.com/post/174745649703/andrewilynyckyj-bergarma-appearance-in-the-sims). They were... very inspirational.

Shane has created a monster.

He watches the club lights play over Ryan’s skin, strands of blue and purple and green shifting in time with the beat of the music. The gleam of Ryan's smile cuts through it all, wide and wild and brilliant, his boisterous laugh rising high above the din of techno synth pop and the muted roar of the crowd.

Shane’s heart doesn’t flutter at the sight of that familiar grin.

(Shane is a goddamn liar.)

He’s also dying of thirst, though not for the beer bottle currently clutched in his sweaty fist. 

It's Ryan's fault - all of it, every single fucking bit. He's the one rolling his hips along to the music pouring through the speakers, drawing Shane's gaze to the dark fabric of his skinny jeans, clinging tight to his muscular thighs and ass. He's the one who keeps throwing his head back to laugh at Jen and Maycie, his cheeks and throat flushed with joy, skin gleaming damp with sweat. He's the one who had walked into the office that morning wearing a suspiciously familiar shirt, the thin material (that Shane simultaneously hates and really fucking adores) clinging to his chest and back like a second skin.

He's the one who had driven Shane absolutely batshit all goddamn day, seizing any opportunity to put his hands on his co-host: leaning over Shane's shoulder to point at something on his computer screen, chest tucked firmly against Shane's back; locking ankles beneath the table as they recorded the latest Postmortem, running the toe of his sneaker over Shane's shin and grinning sunnily whenever Shane faltered over his questions; ducking down to press a quick, soft kiss to Shane's mouth before disappearing to help one of their coworkers with a video, leaving Shane to stare at the broad slope of his back and suffer Jen's teasing smirk (because of course she had noticed). 

And he's the one shooting glances at Shane through the crowd now, each look a tantalizing mix of coy amusement and rising need. Shane shouldn't encourage him; he knows this, especially after Ryan had been a merciless tease all day, but fuck it. Shane is weak for his flirty powerhouse of a boyfriend and pleasantly buzzed besides, and it takes no amount of thought at all to curl his fingers in a come hither gesture, a smirk settling over his features as Ryan pushes his way through the crowd and heads straight for him.

"Having fun?" he asks as Ryan approaches their table, slouching in his chair and taking a long pull from his bottle. It's a play at nonchalance, as if Ryan's little show on the dance floor hadn't sent tendrils of heat curling through his belly. 

Ryan doesn't buy his act for a moment, of course. "Are _you_?" he asks, slotting himself between the languid sprawl of Shane's long legs and reaching for his own bottle, the smirk that graces his lips doing nothing to slow the familiar burn of arousal coursing through Shane's blood. He takes a long swallow of his beer, tilting his head back to chase the remnants, and Shane's own throat goes dry as he watches Ryan’s Adam’s apple bob.

“Dance with me?” Ryan asks once he's done, sweat shining on his brow and in the hollow of his throat. He’s flushed and short of breath, t-shirt clinging to his chest and giving Shane a tantalizing glimpse of dusky nipples. Dark eyes, soft and beguiling, tempt Shane to join him, the curl of his smile bright like a promise.

He’s fucking _beautiful_ , and Shane’s fingers ache to touch him, to curl around his cheeks so he can cup a bit of that brilliance in the palm of his hands.

“You sure you can handle my moves, Bergara?” he asks, covering up his visceral reaction with humor, as is his wont. His heart is pounding. “I mean, I know how competitive you are. Wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”

Ryan bares his teeth in a grin and makes a grab for his hand, his palm hot against Shane's. “Let’s fucking _go _, Madej.”__

__They push their way through the crowd, Ryan’s fingers curled tight around his. Shane catches a glimpse of wide grins from Jen and Maycie before Ryan spins around and hauls him in close, pushing all thoughts of everybody else straight out of Shane's skull._ _

__“Well?” he asks, his hands settling loosely on Shane's hips. “You gonna show me those moves or what?”_ _

__"You might want to hold on tighter than that," Shane warns him. He can barely feel the touch of Ryan's fingers through his jeans, the pressure far too light. Teasing. Purely intentional, judging by Ryan's smirk. _Brat_._ _

__"Good idea," Ryan hums, lips twitching as he pulls Shane in closer, grip tightening around his bony hips. "Gotta keep those giraffe limbs in check. Wouldn't want to hurt somebody."_ _

__The urge to stick his tongue out at his grinning boyfriend is strong, but Shane resists. It’s harder to resist the urge to duck his head and lick the taste of laughter from those smiling lips, but never let it be said that Shane Madej doesn't have a will of fucking steel._ _

__"You talk a lot of shit for someone who loves my limbs,” he quips, squashing the desire, at least for now. It’s a little too early in the night to be falling for Ryan's charms, especially without dealing a little payback of his own first. He’s the self-proclaimed master of making Ryan Bergara squirm, after all; he can’t slack off now just because Ryan’s learned how to return the favor._ _

__"I talk shit _because_ I love them," Ryan says, laughter thick in his voice. "I've gotta keep you humble, big guy. Your head is large enough already."_ _

__Shane barks a laugh, curling his arms around Ryan's neck. " _My_ head? I think we need to worry more about yours, Bergara. Any bigger and it won't fit through the door."_ _

__Ryan raises a single incredulous eyebrow, as if he doesn't know exactly what Shane is referring to. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."_ _

__"Ryan," Shane wheezes. "Seriously? The touching? The kiss in the bullpen? That shirt?" He plucks at the thin material over Ryan's shoulder, nearly plastered to his skin with sweat, and raises a brow of his own. "You've been marching around the office like a damn peacock all day."_ _

__Ryan tries to look affronted, but the effect is quickly ruined by his smirk. "A peacock, huh? Is that a compliment I hear, Madej? You tryin' to say I'm pretty or something?"_ _

__Shane tries to scoff, though it comes out strangled. Much as he’d like to deny it, smug satisfaction sits _very_ well on Ryan Bergara. "I was thinking more of the way they shriek, actually."_ _

__Ryan gapes at him, though the twitch of his lips betrays his amusement. "You dick," he breathes, wrapping his arms around Shane's waist. Shane takes a short and totally steady breath as firm muscle tucks against his back, blazingly hot through his denim jacket. "First I'm conceited, and now I shriek? Admit it, you’re only into me for one thing.”_ _

__He squeezes Shane's waist, arms tight and warm against Shane's skin, even through his clothing, and Shane swallows._ _

__"Nah," he says, his voice a little faint. "I'm in it for the whole package, baby. Big head and all."_ _

__Ryan rolls his eyes, the cut of his smile bright in the flicker of the club's colored lights. "Shut up and start dancing, Long Legs."_ _

__They make a ridiculous sight, Shane’s sure, alternating between swaying together like a couple of kids at prom and flailing like fish out of water in an attempt to make the other laugh. Shane busts out a few moves he can always swear by, using his long limbs to his advantage, and soon Ryan is clutching onto his shoulders and wheezing, his eyes bright with mirth._ _

__Eventually they wind down, however, laughter fading as their skin dampens with sweat and the heat of the lights and their proximity to each other brings a flush to their faces. They're plastered together in the thick of the crowd, hips rolling softly along with the music, the beat sensual and slow and rumbling through the soles of their shoes. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat and each other._ _

__Shane can barely hear the music over the rush in his head, the whole of him attuned to the body tucked against his, the soft grind of Ryan's hips against his own and Ryan's _face_ , all dark, needy eyes and parted lips, watching Shane like nothing and nobody else exists. His hands have migrated to the small of Shane's back, firm and unyielding through Shane’s denim jacket, and it's such a heady fucking feeling, being surrounded like this – the broad plane of Ryan's chest at his front, those arms tucked low around his hips. It would be easy, he thinks, for Ryan to push him through the crowd like this – up against a wall, maybe, or down into the backseat of a car. Even down onto his knees._ _

__He clenches his teeth to cut off a groan at that particular thought, though it does nothing to stem the flood of arousal pooling in his belly. It’s been a handful of weeks since that night in Ryan’s kitchen, when Shane had finally given in to his ridiculous longing and kissed him for the first time, and in the interim they’ve had plenty of opportunities to explore this new, fascinating aspect of their relationship. Despite weeks of distracted pining and increasingly desperate dreams, however, nothing had truly prepared Shane for the reality of intimacy with Ryan. It was new and a little bit intimidating, but it was _easy_ \- easy and so fucking _good_ , hot and intense and sweet in turn, full of laughter at times because sex is ridiculous and a little gross and they both make hilarious noises when they’re really hot for it._ _

__They’ve run the gamut from long, heated makeout sessions to quick, messy handjobs to a particularly memorable night in Shane’s bed, rubbing off against each other until the friction had sent them both keening into the other’s throat, warm, sticky wetness coating their bellies and the sheets tangled around them. Nothing gets Shane going quite like the feeling of Ryan’s thighs wrapped around his shoulders, though, his cock stuffed into the wet heat of Shane’s mouth and his head tossed back, abs clenching beneath Shane’s hand as he’s pushed closer and closer to the edge._ _

__"What’s on your mind, big guy?” Ryan murmurs, his hands roving beneath Shane’s denim jacket, fingers tangling in Shane’s shirt. He can’t seem to stay still, his breath coming fast and his cheeks ruddy, all tell-tale signs of arousal that Shane has grown intimately familiar with over the last few weeks. He’s hard against Shane’s hip, his bulge impossible to hide in those skinny jeans, and Shane can’t resist leaning down and pressing a hard kiss to his lips, the taste of salt and beer and _Ryan_ , something deep and warm and masculine, coating his tongue._ _

__“Thinkin’ about getting outta here,” he rasps, cupping Ryan’s neck between his hands as he pulls back, long fingers brushing against the short hairs at his nape. “And blowing you, once we get home.” Doesn’t matter whose, just so long as they get there soon._ _

__“Fuck, Shane,” Ryan all but groans, his pupils blown wide and dark. His fingers clench in Shane’s shirt, biceps growing taut, and Shane needs to be alone with him now, immediately, _yesterday_._ _

__They’re out of the club and in a car within the next ten minutes, tossing distracted goodbyes over their shoulders at their coworkers on the way out. Shane can already imagine the ribbing they’re gonna get for this on Monday, but he can’t be bothered to give a shit when Ryan is tucked against him in the back of the car, thigh pressed to Shane’s and skin burning like a heat sink, filling up Shane’s head with a fog of lust and anticipation and sharp, aching need._ _

__Ryan rattles off his address to the Uber driver, but Shane barely hears it. He's on fire, his skin too hot at every point where he’s pressed up against Ryan. All he can think about is what they're going to do once they get a door between them and the outside, and judging by Ryan’s hand settling over his thigh, fingers sinking in and squeezing, Shane isn’t the only one._ _


	2. Chapter 2

They’re tangled together as soon as the door slips shut behind them, Ryan’s hands cupped around Shane’s cheeks and pulling him down into a deep, messy kiss. Shane parts his lips with a hungry groan, spearing his fingers through Ryan’s dark hair and licking the lingering taste of alcohol from his mouth.

The apartment is dark, but that doesn’t deter them. Ryan walks him backward with a clear destination in mind, alternating between scratching his fingers through Shane’s beard and pulling at his clothes. Shane’s denim jacket falls to the floor somewhere between the entryway and the living room, his shirt yanked over his head and tossed over Ryan’s shoulder as they navigate down the hallway. Shane has his fingers tangled in Ryan’s shirt before they reach the bedroom, and by the time they stumble inside he’s rucked it up around Ryan’s collarbone, unwilling to separate from his mouth long enough to pull it free.

But he has _plans_ , the bulk of which include pushing Ryan down onto the nearest horizontal surface and stripping him bare, so with a monumental surge of will power (really, he’s very proud of himself), Shane breaks their kiss and jerks Ryan’s flimsy excuse for a shirt over his head.

Urgency swims in his blood, has been aching in his fingers and thrumming in his pulse the entire goddamn day, but once Ryan’s standing shirtless before him, breathing hard as he recovers from their trek to the bedroom, Shane can’t help but stare. Take him in.

And there’s _so_ much to take in. He’s seen it all before, spent hours exploring that body with his mouth and hands, but nothing ever prepares Shane for that moment when it’s first revealed, stripped of clothing and stretched out nude beneath him. Doesn’t matter that it’s dark in the room; light from the streetlamps outside seeps through the window and gives Shane plenty of illumination to work with. His eyes trace the curves of Ryan’s strong shoulders, into the dip of his collarbone, over the firm swells of his pecs and down across the sculpted lines of his abs. Shane gets stuck there for a minute, admittedly, but consoles himself with the knowledge that no one would fucking blame him, because _seriously_ , how are those things even real?

From there it’s a damning slide to Ryan’s navel and the defined vee of his hips, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans, and then to his hands, fingers curled loosely into fists at his sides. Up and over the length of his forearms, to the frankly devastating girth of his biceps, and fuck, it gets to Shane every time, all of that strength on proud display, and if his mouth starts to water just a bit, well, nobody has to know.

Nobody but Ryan, anyway, whose expression gradually shifts from desperate arousal into something far too smug as Shane continues to ogle him.

“See something you like, big guy?” he asks, traces of breathless amusement in his voice. His fingers play at the waistband of his jeans, slipping beneath to trace along the hot swath of skin above his groin.

Shane’s mouth goes positively dry.

“You’re entirely too cocky for someone of your size, did you know that?” he croaks eventually, shaking his head as if he can’t believe Ryan’s gall.

“Hey, us peacocks have a lot to be proud of,” Ryan returns, arching his brows and grinning toothily as Shane groans.

“Fucking – just sit down so I can suck your dick, Ryan.”

A soft wheeze falls from Ryan’s lips, but he does as he’s told, making Shane’s mouth twitch into a smile. _This_ is what he loves about intimacy with Ryan – the moments of intensity interspersed with laughter and light-hearted teasing, leaving no room for anxiety or unease to take root.

No room for anything but excitement and a deep-seated hunger, both of which Shane feels in spades as he falls to his knees, settling within the cradle of Ryan’s spread legs. Ryan’s throat bobs as Shane reaches for his waistband, huffing a soft breath as Shane works at his button and zipper, both pleasant reminders that, all cockiness aside, Ryan is just as affected by Shane as Shane is by him.

Obviously so, considering how eager his fingers are to sink into Shane’s hair, how his abdominals twitch as Shane pulls his jeans and underwear over his ass and down the columns of his thighs, how the head of his cock glistens with pearlescent drops of pre-come when Shane hasn’t even touched him yet.

It’s a damn shame, really. Ryan’s cock is a thing of beauty, thick and flushed a soft red at the tip, jutting from a nest of dark curls. It certainly deserves to be touched.

But that doesn’t mean Shane can’t prolong the experience a bit. He strokes his hands along the length of Ryan's thighs, enjoying the sensation of soft, downy hair beneath his fingers and so much warm skin stretched over powerful muscles. He can see Ryan’s chest hitching each time he comes close to grazing his dick, until finally there’s a tug of fingers within his hair and Ryan’s shooting him an impatient, wobbly smile.

“Stop teasing,” he says, his voice hoarse with arousal; at Shane’s raised brow, he adds, “Please?”

Shane should probably refuse and draw this out a little longer, considering how much teasing _he’s_ had to endure today, but the temptation to make Ryan fall apart is too strong to resist.

“Don’t say I never gave you anything,” he chirps, shooting Ryan one of his patented shit-eating grins before wrapping his fingers around the base of Ryan’s cock and sucking the head into his mouth.

The noise that comes out of Ryan’s mouth has featured many a time in Shane’s filthiest dreams, a choked, breathy whine that breaks in the middle, suppressed by Ryan’s teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Shane’s goal – one of many, anyway – is to wring as many of them out of Ryan tonight as he possibly can, and he falls upon his task with gusto, working Ryan’s cock deeper into the heat of his mouth and swirling his tongue around the leaking tip.

“Jesus Christ, Shane,” Ryan curses, his spine curving as Shane alternates between long, lingering licks along the shaft and teasing flicks against the sensitive glans beneath the head. “Fffff – _fuck_ , Shane, I can’t, you’re so – “ He breaks off in a strangled whimper, his fingers going tight in Shane’s hair as Shane hollows his cheeks and sucks.

Shane hums, the taste of pre-come and saliva heavy on his tongue, his gaze locked on Ryan’s face. He could get off on Ryan’s expressions alone, the way his face crumples into slack-jawed, breathless pleasure, plush lips parted and cheeks painted red. He’s so fucking pretty like this, lost to bliss and without restraint, his hips jerking forward in tiny increments as Shane swallows him down.

Shane reaches for his hands, untangling Ryan’s fingers from his hair and pressing them firmly against the back of his head. He feels the rumble of Ryan’s groan down to his fucking bones, wraps his arms around Ryan’s thighs and relaxes his throat to take him in as deep as he’s able, nearly down to the root. He’s uncomfortably hard, aching from the heavy weight of Ryan on his tongue and the pressure of those hands clasped to the back of his head. It’s as if they’re back in the club, Ryan surrounding him on all sides, firm and hot and _good_ , and Shane sucks at his length with a throaty groan as his arousal rises to a fever pitch.

Ryan surges beneath him, mouth falling open in a strangled shout as he comes. Shane eagerly swallows the gush of fluid spilling down his throat until he has no choice but to pull away, sucking in a few lungfuls of breath while Ryan’s cock spurts the remainder of his load onto Shane’s chin and collarbone, some managing to drip onto his jeans in the process.

“That’s – that’s pretty fucking rude, Bergara,” he pants, his jaw aching and his lips feeling stretched out and sore. His dick is so hard it _hurts_. “You’re payin’ for my – my drycleaning after this. S’only fair.”

Ryan doesn’t rise to his bait. His chest is heaving, his spent cock softening against his thigh and a sheen of sweat coating his torso. He barely allows himself a few moments to recover before he’s reaching for Shane again, stroking fingers through his wild hair and smiling like Shane’s hung the moon. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmurs, sounding absolutely besotted, and fuck, that’s a nice feeling, being the cause of that much boundless affection in Ryan Bergara’s voice.

“Flatterer,” Shane says, and if he sounds a little besotted himself, well, at least they’re in it together.

Ryan pulls him into a kiss, tongue curling into his mouth to taste remnants of himself, and though Shane’s knees are starting to ache and he really needs to do something about the cum on his skin before it dries, he’s in no hurry to move from his current position. That is, until Ryan eases back with a soft flick of his tongue to Shane’s lower lip and cups his cheeks, thumbing away the spot of cum on his chin. “Wanna eat you out,” he says, a dreamy lilt to his voice. His expression is so open, so hungry, and Shane would honestly fucking preen at being the cause if his brain wasn’t doing the equivalent of mental somersaults at those words. Ryan kisses him again, a single, hard press of his lips against Shane’s, and when he pulls back his eyes are soft and dark. “Wanna eat you out, and then I wanna fuck you.”

Shane nearly blows his load right there, his belly clenching around a sudden sharp spike of arousal. “Yeah,” he breathes, _pleads_ , into Ryan’s mouth. “Yeah, _yes_ , you can. Should. Do that.”

Ryan’s eyes grow wide and dazzled. Shane would laugh – _someone’s_ eager – if he weren’t distracted by the hands at his cheeks, pulling him into yet another kiss, softer and less frenzied than the others. “Yeah?” Ryan asks him, something tremulous in his voice. Vulnerable. Awed.

Shane can only nod, finding it suddenly hard to speak, hard to move, but Ryan’s there to help him, pulling him up and onto the bed, rolling Shane onto his back until the long length of him is stretched out over the dark sheets. The bedside drawer rattles as it’s opened and rifled through, and then Ryan is poised over him, ducking down to capture Shane’s mouth in a series of soft, unhurried kisses that leave Shane melting into the bed. Fingers pluck at his jeans, the sound of a zipper releasing preceding a rush of cool air brushing over heated skin, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he’s finally freed from the remainder of his clothes.

“Turn over,” Ryan urges, stroking Shane’s thighs, the smooth skin of his palms dragging through the soft hairs there. It’s such a soothing touch, so hypnotizing, that Shane hates to lose it, but the promise of more coaxes him into turning on his belly, a soft hiss escaping his mouth as his cock presses almost uncomfortably against the bedspread. Ryan grabs for a pillow and pushes it beneath his hips, and that helps; Shane breathes out a soft thanks, and reaches for another pillow to rest his head on.

“No problem, baby,” Ryan tells him, equally as soft, and Shane tucks the curve of his answering smile into the pillow. They haven’t been big on sappy pet names and probably never would be, though they’ll toss some back and forth around the office just to annoy their friends, each more ridiculous and sugary than the last until someone – usually Steven or T.J. – begs them to stop.

They tend to be more genuine when they slip free during intimate moments like this – obviously so, considering there’s no brainpower left to perform a bit or crack a joke when you’re busy chasing an orgasm. Shane files each one away in the back of his mind – _baby_ and _sweetheart_ and, once, _love_ , gasped against the nape of Shane’s neck as he wrapped long fingers around both of their cocks.

Even insults start to sound like endearments when they’re like this. It’s hard to take _big guy_ as anything but a compliment when your boyfriend is rubbing off desperately against you, after all.

“What are you grinning about?” Ryan asks, his voice tinged with amusement as he runs his mouth along the nape of Shane’s neck, his hands planted on either side of Shane’s torso.

“Jus’ enjoying myself,” Shane answers, sighing as Ryan traces a path along the curve of his right shoulder, his tongue flicking against the constellation of freckles speckled across Shane’s skin.

“Oh yeah?” Ryan murmurs, his breath hot against the shell of Shane’s ear. A shiver works its way down Shane’s spine, and he tilts his head as Ryan scatters soft, lingering kisses over his scruffy cheek. “I’ve barely even gotten started here, big guy. Might wanna brace yourself.”

“Cocky,” Shane accuses, though he can’t be bothered to sound all that upset about it.

Ryan huffs a laugh. “Not cocky,” he says, ducking down to catch Shane’s lips in a slow kiss. “Just sure.”

Shane scoffs, arching his back and smirking as his ass rubs against Ryan’s cock, soft but already beginning to swell again. “You’re doing an awful lot of talking, baby, don’t you think?” He shimmies his hips again, grinning fiercely as Ryan’s cock twitches against his ass. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

Ryan wheezes, though it comes out low and strangled. “I want you to remember you said that,” he murmurs, arousal lending a hoarseness to his voice that never fails to wreck Shane, and Shane does exactly as he’d suggested and braces himself as Ryan begins to nose along his throat, nuzzling the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t linger, apparently taking Shane’s words to heart, and it’s only a matter of moments before he’s tracing a path down the length of Shane’s spine.

Shane nearly melts at the sensation of those plush lips trailing across his skin, even as he can’t help but tense in anticipation at what’s to come. Realistically, occasional daydreams about Ryan fucking him are going to be nothing compared to the real thing and he’s already a goddamn mess from the foreplay alone. With Ryan’s cocksure assurance that he’s barely gotten started and his competitive nature firmly in play, Shane wonders if he should start making bets about how long his coherency is going to last.

Not long at all, he thinks faintly, as Ryan continues to leave a trail of nips and soft, lingering kisses across the span of his back. He spends a few moments sucking a bruise into the base of Shane’s spine, and Shane’s breath hitches at the tight, aching pull of sensitive skin. The urge to thrust into the pillow cradling his hips is so strong that he can’t squash it fast enough, but Ryan digs his fingers into his thighs and forces him to still. Shane releases a shaky breath against the pillow, each point where Ryan’s fingers dig into his flesh burning like a brand.

"Lift your hips, big guy," Ryan murmurs, his breath warm against the small of Shane's back.

Shane has to clench his muscles tight to avoid doing exactly as Ryan says. He wants to – honestly he does, but now he wants something else, too. It’s by Ryan’s design that he’s wound up like this, splayed on his belly and waiting to be devoured, and fuck if it isn’t the most intoxicating feeling he’s ever experienced, but it makes him greedy, makes him _needy_ , and he presses his burning face into the pillow as he rasps, "Make me."

There's silence for a moment, save the heaviness of their breathing and Shane’s own pulse drumming in his ears, before a gust of breath fans out against his skin – a laugh. "Shoulda known that was what you wanted. You’ve been ready for it all day, haven’t you, Shane?" Ryan lifts away from Shane's back without receiving a response, probably doesn’t even expect one, because of course he’s right, of course he _knows_ , but as he yanks Shane’s hips off the bed, leaving Shane’s ass in the air and his knees digging into the mattress, Shane gives him an answer anyway – not in words, but in the clench of his fingers around the pillow beneath his head and the spread of his thighs. _Yes_.

Every nerve practically sings as Ryan ducks his head and presses a kiss to the small of his back, then another, and another, each one lower than the last. He tongues lazily along the top of Shane’s ass, tracing nonsensical designs into his skin that Shane can’t even begin to decipher. It's almost ticklish, warm and wet, offering Shane a glimpse of what he’s in for, and a powerful shudder wracks his body as he waits for the inevitable.

"Are you signing your name back there or something?" he breathes after a few moments, a hint of impatience in his voice as Ryan continues to lavish attention directly above where Shane wants it most.

"Maybe," Ryan murmurs, dropping a kiss to the swell of each cheek; Shane shudders once more. " _This ass property of Ryan Bergara_ does have a nice ring to it, don't you think?" He palms a handful and squeezes, an appreciative hum leaving his lips.

Shane huffs out a laugh. "Only if you get _Property of Shane Madej_ on yours," he starts, only to falter on a groan as Ryan's thumbs slip into his crease, the tips brushing teasingly against his hole.

Ryan's lips quirk against his ass. "Deal," he breathes, and spreads Shane wide.

" _F-fuck!_ " The curse comes out strangled, Shane's lips parted on a harsh breath at the first wet swipe of Ryan's tongue against him. As much as he was teasing earlier, Ryan doesn't seem interested in drawing things out now; he's laving at Shane's hole with quick, harsh flicks of his tongue, interspersed with soft licks that follow no pattern at all, leaving Shane unable to predict and accustom himself to the white-hot sensations. He grips the pillow beneath his head and sucks in sharp, unsteady breaths as Ryan laps at his rim with the flat of his tongue, each exhale catching on a moan. He can’t fucking think, can’t speak, can only _feel_ \- the slick glide of Ryan’s tongue over his hole, the pressure of his fingertips sinking into Shane’s ass, the coil of arousal growing tighter and hotter in the pit of his belly.

Ryan makes a soft, snuffling sound as he eases his tongue past Shane’s puckered rim, and Shane squashes his cheek into the pillow and bites his lip, both to quiet his breathing and suppress his own moans as the soft, wet muscle presses inside. The whole of him is vibrating like a plucked string, his hips rolling back against the pressure of Ryan’s mouth, and heat rushes to his face as he listens to Ryan – to his low, pleasured hums and the slick sucking sound of his lips and tongue as he eats Shane out.

The muted pop of a cap barely penetrates the haze in Shane’s mind, but the first hint of pressure against his hole, harder than Ryan’s tongue and coated in slick, certainly does. At first Ryan only circles his rim with his finger, pushing lube past the ring of muscle wet with his own saliva, until Shane is arching his back and on the verge of fucking whining, begging, whatever the fuck he has to do get Ryan to hurry the fuck up already.

“Stop fuckin’ – fucking teasing me, Ryan,” he bites out, his knees shifting restlessly against the bed. “Enough with the foreplay already, c’mon – “

Ryan’s finger sinks into him, the slide eased by the workings of his tongue. It’s so abrupt – so _easy_ – that Shane sucks in a startled breath –  
– a breath which comes out, embarrassingly enough, as a squeak.

A _squeak_.

"You made that sound the night you kissed me,” Ryan breathes, his voice a hoarse rasp that Shane cannot even begin to handle.

Oh, fucking Christ. “S-Shut up,” he chokes out, thrusting back against Ryan’s finger, a wet, broken gasp leaving his throat as it sinks in to the knuckle. “You fucking – fucking asshole, you promised not to bring that up again – “

“But you were so cute, Shane,” Ryan coos, palming the curve of Shane’s hip as he eases a second finger in alongside the first, stuffing them in deep and making Shane moan a mangled version of Ryan’s name. “You’ve been cute all day, you know that? Trying so hard not to look at me, trying to pretend you haven’t been hard since I walked into the office wearing that shirt.” The slick squelch of Ryan’s fingers sinking into him is obscene, mingling with Shane’s ragged breaths and Ryan’s voice, husky with need and colored with the same cocky tone he’s been touting all day, the fucker. “I love it, you know? The way you look at me. How hot it makes you when I show off, when I prove how strong I am. Like now – fuck – “ Ryan’s voice falters, and Shane groans as a third finger sinks inside his hole, the stretch just a hair’s breadth away from too much. “Christ, you feel so fucking _good_.”

Shane makes a noise, a gasping whine, meaning _Yes_ and _You too_ and _please don’t fucking stop_. As soon as his body becomes accustomed to the intrusion, he’s thrusting back against Ryan’s fingers in a desperate bid for friction, his low grunts mingling with Ryan’s heavy breaths and occasional awestruck whispers of his name. On a particularly deep thrust, Ryan’s fingertips brush against his prostate, sending Shane scrabbling for a handhold on the sheets and pressing his forehead into the bed, a broken cry spilling from his open mouth.

“Look at you,” Ryan rasps, his voice nearly a moan. His fingertips brush against that spot, over and over again, until Shane is reduced to a mess of needy grunts and desperate pleas – _harder, more, please, Ryan_. “ _Listen_ to you. Jesus, Shane, I never knew you’d be so – “

However that sentence ends, Shane doesn’t hear it. Ryan’s free hand has migrated from his hip to his cock, hanging full and red between his legs, and the first touch against his sensitive flesh tears a shout from his throat, leaves his head buzzing with a rush of white noise. He reaches back, wrapping his fingers around Ryan’s and fisting the aching length of his cock, smearing slick down the shaft. He’s so desperately close, the dual sensations of Ryan’s fingers stuffed inside of him and both of their hands jerking his cock pushing him right up to that perilous ledge.

Until Ryan slows their pace, soothing Shane with a kiss to his hip as he untangles their fingers. “Breathe, baby,” he says, no doubt feeling the tremors racing though Shane’s body, the tightly coiled tension in his spine as his orgasm wanes and recedes. “C’mon, s’okay, gonna take care of you, gonna make you feel so good, I promise.”

Shane whimpers as Ryan’s fingers slip free of his body, leaving him empty and bereft until he’s rolled onto his back, his legs splaying around Ryan’s hips as Ryan eases between them, and holy fuck, Ryan’s _face_ \- it’s like a shot from every fantasy ever dreamt up in Shane’s head: his eyes feverish and hungry, dark hair damp with sweat and plastered to his forehead, his lips red and wet and puffy, remnants of saliva and lube slick on his chin.

“Shit, Ry,” Shane pants, fingers clenching in the bedsheets as Ryan reaches for a condom, his expression a gorgeous mix of pain and pleasure as he slicks his cock with lube. “You look – you look – “

“I know,” Ryan breathes, pressing a kiss to the side of Shane’s knee, his thigh, the dip of his navel, smiling as Shane’s stomach twitches. “You, too.” He guides the head of his cock to Shane’s entrance, the slick head catching on his rim, and asks, his voice low and husky with want, “Can I?”

Shane’s answer is immediate. “Yeah, yes, c’mon.” He wraps his legs around Ryan’s hips, tugging him closer. “ _Ry_ , fuck, c’mon, fuck me – “

Ryan finally presses inside amidst a chorus of their moans and heavy breaths, Shane’s body parting slick and snug around his cock, sucking him in. Shane’s legs clench of their own accord whenever Ryan goes to pull back out, reluctant to relinquish the stretch and exquisite ache, but Ryan never goes far, just enough so that he can allow Shane to get used to the stretch before he sinks in deeper, inch by tortuous inch until his cock is buried in soft, grasping heat.

Shane’s not sure how long he can last once Ryan’s stuffed to the hilt inside of him; he craves friction, craves _release_ , the likes of which he’s been skirting the edge of all goddamn day, and he clutches at Ryan’s sides, presses his hands against the small of his back, urging Ryan forward, deeper, urging Ryan to _fuck him already_.

Until Ryan's hands wrap around his wrists, shoving them down against the mattress on either side of Shane’s head and pinning them there. Shane’s reaction is immediate, a hitch of breath followed by a clench of his muscles around the hard length filling him up. He curls his hands into fists, makes an attempt to break Ryan’s hold, but Ryan’s grip is firm, his fists squeezing at Shane’s wrists, and Shane falls abruptly, desperately still.

Ryan tilts his head, his tongue swiping along his swollen bottom lip. "Do you need me to hold you down?" he asks, and Shane nearly squirms, a flood of arousal rushing through him so quickly that he feels dizzy.

"Y-yeah," he croaks, hips shifting restlessly, pulse pounding. "Yeah, _yes_ , fuck, Ry - "

Ryan shushes him, desire and fondness combining to form an absolutely devastating expression on his handsome face. "It's okay, big guy. I've got you. Said I was gonna take care of you, remember?"

He sets up a lingering pace, his cock easing from Shane’s hole and sinking back inside with slow, steady rolls of his hips. The pressure is maddening, the sight of Ryan poised above him even more so, sweat slicking his chest and abs, his arms flexing with every thrust. His teeth have sunken into his bottom lip, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded, and Shane is caught, completely transfixed in that gaze.

“ _Faster_.” He’s not even aware that he’s spoken, not really, not until Ryan’s thrusts begin to pick up speed, the soft slap of skin against skin echoing along with their heavy breaths and the creak of the bedsprings. Shane’s wrists flex within Ryan’s grip, his fingers aching to slip over what seems like acres of sweat-slick, bronze skin, but Ryan holds firm, biceps bulging as he tightens his grip and presses Shane’s wrists harder into the mattress.

There will be marks, Shane thinks faintly, bruises wrapped around his wrists like brands, and a whine builds in his throat as he crosses his ankles behind Ryan’s back and arches up into the next searching thrust.

They devolve into grunts and muffled curses as they writhe together, the sheets rucking up beneath them, the mattress squeaking. Sweat gleams on Ryan’s forehead, drips down the curve of his cheek, lips red and parted on breathless gasps as he fucks into Shane with increasingly frantic rolls of his hips.

Each strike against his prostate sends Shane further and further towards the edge, his head falling back as he struggles to meet each of Ryan’s desperate thrusts. Pleas fall from his lips like rain, desperate entreaties for more, faster, harder, until he’s babbling, until baring down on Ryan’s cock and chasing his orgasm are all that matters, all that he wants, _needs_.

And all the while Ryan watches him with dark-eyed, tremulous awe, like he can’t believe how desperate Shane’s become, can’t believe the greedy suck of his body and the hungry cant of his hips. Can’t believe what he’s turned Shane into.

“ _Shane_.” His name falls from Ryan’s lips like a fucking prayer. The grip on his wrists loosens, Ryan's fingers twitching, and then they’re pulling away entirely, Ryan gasping, "Fuck, sorry, I have to - " and wrapping tight around Shane's hips.

Shane wants to tell him it's fine, it's okay, but all that comes out of his mouth is a broken moan as Ryan snaps his hips, each thrust harder than the last until he's built up a brutal pace, every jerk of his hips pushing Shane further up the mattress. Shane goes limp, breathless beneath Ryan’s powerful grip and frantic thrusts, his grunts of exertion and the wet slap of skin against skin.

As if realizing his hands are finally free, his fingers scrabble at the bed, tangling in the sheets before he wraps them around Ryan's thighs. His mouth falls open as thick, taut muscle shifts beneath his palms, covered with a fine sheen of sweat and burning hot, and he urges Ryan on, pleads to be fucked until he can barely recognize his own voice, until Ryan’s keening his name and going still, buried balls deep and shaking as he falls apart.

Shane’s own orgasm sneaks up on him, tearing a strangled shout from his throat as his cock spurts between them, inner muscles clenching around Ryan’s dick and drawing a ragged whimper from Ryan’s lips. Cum pools on his stomach and chest, the scent of sweat and sex overwhelming, and he slumps against the bed with a trembling exhale as Ryan fucks him through the aftershocks, thrusts turning lazy and slow until oversensitivity forces them to stop.

“You okay, big guy?” Ryan’s voice breaks the resulting quiet, a quiet broken only by their heavy breaths as they struggle to recover from their orgasms.

“’M good,” Shane murmurs, swallowing hard. Every muscle has gone loose and limber, a pleasant, exhausted haze settling over his body. It’s a struggle not to sink into it completely, to drift off sated and full and happily sore, but he somehow manages to lift his hand and pat at Ryan’s thigh, anyway, breathing, “Good job, buddy.”

Ryan wheezes, his forehead falling to rest against Shane’s belly for a moment before he lifts up and away, easing carefully from the warmth of Shane’s body. Shane grumbles at the loss, but Ryan soothes him with a hand along his thigh, coaxing Shane’s legs from around his waist until they’re stretched out along the mattress.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, dropping a last kiss to Shane’s navel before he heaves himself up from the bed. Shane listens to the thud of his bare feet over carpet, followed by the _snic_ of a light switch flipping on and the sound of running water. His body sinks into the mattress, all languid and content, all of the tension of the day having sloughed off of him, shaken free by a round of desperate, thorough fucking.

Soft footfalls approach the bed after a few minutes, followed by Ryan’s voice warning, “Incoming,” and the warmth of a cloth drifting over his thighs and stomach, cleaning the sweat and cum from his skin. Shane blinks his eyes open, lips tilting into what has to be a pretty ridiculous smile, if Ryan’s answering grin is anything to go by, and holds out an arm, coaxing Ryan back into bed with a lazy, “Can’t leave me alone in bed after sex like that, Bergara. S‘rude.”

Ryan laughs, climbing over Shane to settle at his back, pulling Shane against his chest. “You’re sounding a little delirious there, big guy,” he murmurs, tucking his chin over Shane’s shoulder.

Shane huffs, grabbing for Ryan’s arm and pulling it over his side. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he mumbles, his voice slurring a bit as exhaustion takes its toll. “Fuckin’ peacock.”

Ryan’s laughter is soft against his throat, his breath smelling faintly of mint as his lips press against the corner of Shane’s mouth. He must have brushed his teeth while Shane was drifting in his fucked out, blissful haze.

“Go to sleep, Shane,” Ryan tells him, his fingers curling loose and low against Shane’s stomach.

Shane doesn’t have to be told twice.


End file.
